


Like Father, Like Son

by AwkwardBabyGiraffe



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Daddy Issues, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Government Experimentation, Insomnia, Kidnapping, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), dadneto, for the love of god peter just tell him!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardBabyGiraffe/pseuds/AwkwardBabyGiraffe
Summary: After the whole Apocalypse fiasco, Peter finally gets to spend some time Erik. Now he just has to figure out how to tell him that he's his son. It turns out to be a lot harder than Peter thought it would be.





	1. Chapter 1

Hank had been clear when explaining the rules of cast aftercare to Peter. No heavy lifting, no getting the cast wet, and most important of all, no running. Those words felt like a punch to the gut. No running? That was a fate worse than death! Hank merely rolled his eyes when the speedster told him just that. “Don't be so dramatic, Peter. With your accelerated healing, the cast should be able to come off in two, maybe three, weeks.”

Peter's eyes widened, his silver eyebrows shooting towards his hairline as a disbelieving scoff rose in his throat. “Three weeks! Shit, man, you do realize that's like three _years_ to me, right?”

“Yes, Peter, I'm aware that patience isn't your strongest suit but if you want your leg to heal properly, you'll follow the rules.” Hank stressed, tapping the cast with his finger.

“What if, hypothetically, I didn't follow the rules?” Peter asked innocently with nonchalant shrug. “What if I, hypothetically, went on a few small runs? You know, hypothetically, of course.”

Hank nodded thoughtfully, playing along with the speedster's antics. “Well, if you were to _hypothetically_ do that, you could permanently damage your leg and you'd never be able to run again.”

Peter blanched at the words, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of never running again. Now _that_ would be a fate worse than death. The young, silver-haired, mutant swallowed the lump in his throat. “I guess it's a good thing this is all hypothetical, then.”

Peter left Hank's lab feeling defeated. Whether he liked it or not, he was stuck with the cast for the next two to three weeks. He could do it. He could totally do it! He could do anything! He was Peter Maximoff, son of fucking Magneto, not that the metal bending mutant was aware of that fact. At least, that's what he told himself but in reality, it only took a couple days for him to get utterly fed up with the cast and it only took a few more hours for him to decide that it had to go.

So one night, Peter swiped a bread knife from one of the mansion's kitchens and hid in his room. He waited until everyone went to bed to do the deed. He wasn't sure how long it would take to cut the cast off with such a small knife but he was willing to work through the night if he had to. He wished he could get his hands on one of Hank's fancy saws but the doctor would have surely noticed if any of them went missing.

“I can do this. How hard can it be?” Peter muttered to himself with a small shrug. After taking a steadying breath, he began slowly sawing away. He kept the cast steady with his left hand while he worked, being careful to avoid cutting himself. Turns out, cutting off a plaster cast with only a bread knife was a lot harder than you'd think. After about five minutes, Peter had hardly made a dent. “Jesus, what is this thing made of? Cement?”

Peter's hands had become clammy with sweat, making the knife slip from his grip. The serrated blade sliced across the back of his left hand, drawing blood and causing the young man to let out a sharp cry of pain. The knife fell to the floor as Peter held his injured hand close to his chest. “OW! Fuck!”

“Didn't your parents ever teach you not to play with knives?” a cool and slightly amused voice asked. Peter jumped and looked up to find Erik leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. Peter hadn't even heard the door open so there was no telling how long the metal bender had been standing there. The young mutant stared up at Erik like a child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Please don't tell Hank.” he begged, knowing the doctor would tear him a new one if he found out about this. Erik stepped into the room.

“He'll find out himself if you keep bleeding all over your cast.” he nodded towards Peter's leg. Peter looked down and sure enough there was a small cluster of blood drops just above his knee.

“Shit!” Peter desperately tried to wipe it off the cast but only succeeded in smearing the blood across the white plaster. “Hank's gonna kill me.”

“Most likely.” Erik chuckled, strolling over to Peter's closet. Charles had insisted that small first aid kits be placed in all of the rooms for superficial injuries that the children could take care of themselves. Erik retrieved the kit and sat next to Peter on his bed. It took everything in his power to remain calm because _holy shit his ex-terrorist father was sitting right next to him. Should he tell him? Should he tell him now that he was his son? Was now a good time? Alright Maximoff, just stay cool. You can do this._ Peter was pulled from is stressful thoughts when Erik reached towards him. “Let me see your hand.”

Peter held out his hand, wincing slightly as he unclenched his fist while Erik pulled a gauze pad from the kit. He tore open the small package and took Peter's hand in his. “This might hurt a bit.”

The young man nodded and braced himself, watching carefully as his father covered the cut with the gauze and applied pressure. It hurt a little but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Erik pulled the gauze away and closely examined the wound, dabbing it with the pad as fresh blood surfaced. “It doesn't appear to be too deep. You probably wont need stitches but you should let Hank take a look at it just to be safe.”

“No! If I tell Hank he'll know I tried to cut the cast off.” Peter told him frantically. “Can _you_ fix it?”

Erik thought about it for a moment before sighing. “I'll take care of it for now but if it keeps bleeding after fifteen minutes-”

“I'll go see Hank.” Peter promised, crossing his heart with his free hand for emphasis. The older mutant nodded and pulled some more items from the kit, glancing to the discarded bread knife at their feet.

“Did really think you could cut the cast off with that little thing?” Erik chuckled, pressing a fresh gauze pad to the wound. Peter chewed at the inside of his cheek nervously and shrugged.

“I just had to get it off.” he muttered bitterly, glaring down at the cast. After all that work, he'd hardly done any damage to it. “I hate this stupid thing. It feels like its smothering me. It's heavy and hot and I cant run in it and if I can't run then I'm pretty much useless.”

“You're not useless, Peter.” Erik shook his head.

“You're right. Pathetic is probably a more accurate word.” he joked although he was actually serious.

“You're not pathetic either.”

“I'm a twenty-six year old high school dropout who, up until a few weeks ago, still lived in his mom's basement.” Peter scoffed. “If that's not pathetic, then I don't know what is.”

“You're not pathetic. You're a brave and exceptional young man who risked his life to save the world from a homicidal mutant with a god complex.” Erik told him firmly, pulling the gauze away. The bleeding had stopped.

“A mutant who snapped my leg like it was a toothpick.” Peter reminded him as he applied antibiotic ointment to the cut.

“If I remember correctly, you got in a few good shots, too.” Erik smirked as he opened a package containing a large strip bandage.

“I got lucky.” Peter shrugged.

“You really shouldn't sell yourself short, Peter.” Erik told him, placing the bandage over the cut. After making sure that the bandage was secure, he nodded in satisfaction and rose to his feet. Erik clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “The world is full of people who will try to tear you down. Don't do their job for them.”

With that, Erik turned and walked towards the door. Peter's stomach twisted as he watched his father leave. He wanted to tell Erik right then and there. He could do that. All he had to do was say those three little words; _I'm your son. Just three words._ _Come on, Maximoff! Grow a pair and tell him!_ “Erik, wait! I need to tell you something.”

The older man stopped and looked back, his eyebrows raised in expectation. “Yes?”

“I'm-” his voice caught in his throat and what little bit of bravery he had mustered up shriveled away. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't say those words. So instead, he just sat there with his mouth hanging open like a dead fish. Erik gave him a concerned look.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step towards him. Peter let out a defeated sigh and dropped his gaze.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say thanks for, um,” he lifted up his bandaged hand. “for this.”

Erik seemed a but suspicious but he nodded anyways. “You're welcome. Try to get some sleep. Goodnight, Peter.”

“Night,” Peter called after him as he left. His voice was quiet, nearly inaudible, as he finished, “Dad.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Why is there blood on your cast?” Ororo asked the next morning at breakfast. They sat at the bar in one of the kitchens while the others ate in the dinning room.

“Shit. I forgot about that.” Peter covered the dried blood with his napkin as he stuffed another bagel in his mouth.

“What happened?” Peter shrugged and finished chewing his food before answering.

“I hurt my hand last night when I tried to cut the cast off.” he told her nonchalantly. Ororo's eyes widened.

“You tried to cut off your cast?” she asked incredulously. “With what?”

“A bread knife.”

“Did you honestly think that would work?” she scoffed.

“No, not really. I was just desperate, I guess.” Peter huffed. “I just needed it to come off.”

“You couldn't have just waited until your leg was healed?”

“I don't know if you've noticed but I have a hard time sitting still.”

“Really?” she teased. “I hadn't noticed.”

“Hardy har har.” Peter rolled his eyes. “What I'm trying to say is that all the energy I usually burn off by running is building up inside of me and I feel like I'm about to explode. Being stuck in this stupid cast, unable to run, is like torture to me.”

“I'm sorry, Peter.” Ororo frowned in sympathy.

“I'll live.” he shrugged. “You know, unless Hank finds out that I tried to cut the cast off and kills me. Speaking of which, do you know how to wash blood off a cast?”

Ororo thought for a moment, her face lighting up suddenly. “I have a better idea.”

“What? Wait, where are you going?” Peter called after her as she jumped from her seat and ran from the kitchen. “Ororo?”

She returned a few minutes later with a package of Sharpies and a wide smile. She took her seat next to Peter and patted her lap. “Let me see your cast.”

Peter gave her a questioning look but swung his right leg into her lap anyways. Ororo pulled a red Sharpie from the pack and began drawing over the dried blood. Peter watched in amusement as she drew, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration. After adding a few more details with the black marker, she announced with a grin, “Done.”

Peter examined her work, unable to contain his smile when he saw that she had hidden the blood beneath a drawing of a flower. “Nice but do you think you could add some thorns or maybe a skull and crossbones? You know, to protect my masculinity?”

“So ungrateful.” Ororo teased, throwing the marker at him. Throughout the day, several of the kids came up to him, asking if they could sign his cast. Even Raven got in on the action, writing in bold letters along the back of his calf **MISTIQUE IS #1**. By curfew, his entire cast was covered in names and doodles, his favorite being a drawing of Mr. and Mrs. Pac-Man chasing all of the ghosts around his ankle, courtesy of Jubilee.

Later that night, after everyone else in the mansion had fallen asleep, Peter found himself wide awake. He was used to sleepless nights. His mutation made his brain work at a fast pace and it was hard to turn it off but he could usually squeeze in at least a few hours of decent sleep. That night, however, had been different. What little sleep he had gotten was plagued by nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back in Cairo, at the mercy of Apocalypse.

This had been going on ever since they returned to Westchester. Peter would wake up every night in a cold sweat, his leg aching and his heart pounding. He could still hear Apocalypse's mocking voice and feel his fingers tangled in his hair. He thought about talking to someone about it, maybe Ororo or Raven or even Charles, but he always ended up talking himself out of it. They had their own problems. They didn't need to be bothered with his. He could handle a few bad dreams. They'd probably just go away on their own.

Except, they weren't going away. They were getting worse. Having given up on trying to go back to sleep, Peter left his room, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. He strolled down the halls of the mansion, trying to get his latest nightmare off his mind. Eventually, he wandered into one of the kitchens, his feet taking him to the refrigerator for a late night snack. It wasn't until he had filled his arms with all of the makings for a sandwich that he realized he wasn't alone.

“Holy shit!” Peter couldn't help but jump when he saw that Erik was sitting at the bar, quietly watching him with an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fuck, man. You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“My apologies.” Erik chuckled, gesturing towards the food in Peter's arms. “You must be very hungry if you're planning to eat all of that.”

“I, uh, was gonna make a sandwich but I can go to the kitchen downstairs.” Peter began putting the food up. “I don't want to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me.” Erik assured him with a small smile.

“You sure?” Peter asked warily. Erik shrugged.

“I could use the company.”

“Okay.” Peter gathered his ingredients and sat them out on the counter. “You want one?”

“What are you making?”

“A peanut butter sandwich with mayonnaise, pickles, and bananas.” Erik looked like he was going to be sick. “Hey, don't diss it until you try it.”

“I once knew a woman who loved those.” Erik shook his head with a laugh. “I never understood it.”

“It's my mom's favorite.” Peter mumbled, realizing that the woman Erik was talking about probably _was_ his mother. “She used to have a pile of them ready for me when I got home from school.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman.” Erik mused, watching as Peter slathered several pieces of bread with mayo and peanut butter. “Is she a mutant as well?”

“No.” Peter couldn't help but laugh at the sudden thought of his mother as an X-Man. “No, her superpower was raising two kids by herself.”

“Where was your father?” Erik asked, making Peter freeze. _Off hunting Nazis and assassinating presidents,_ he wanted to say but he held his tongue. This wasn't the right time. It was still too soon after the deaths of his wife and child. He'd feel like Peter was trying to replace them. No, Peter would until the time was right.

“He, uh, he and my mom parted ways before I was born. He never even knew she was pregnant.” Peter told him, avoiding eye contact as he began cutting up the bananas.

“It must have been hard growing up without a father.”

“It wasn't all bad. My mom remarried when I eight and had my sister, Wanda, a few years later. But that guy eventually walked out on us, too.” Peter couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped him as he sliced the pickles into chips. “Guess I don't have the best luck with dads.”

“Have you ever reached out to him? Your father?”

“Uh, not really no.” Peter hoped Erik didn't notice the way his voice cracked. “By the time I found out who he was, he'd already started a new life and had a new family. He was finally happy and it just didn't feel right to barge into his life and mess it all up.”

“That's very selfless of you.” Erik told him as Peter sat one of the sandwiches on a plate and handed it to him. “Oh, no I couldn't.”

“Just try it, old man.” Peter smirked. “You never know, it might end up being you're new favorite food.”

Erik scowled but took the plate. “I am not an _old man_ , Peter. I'm only forty-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just eat the damn sandwich.” the young man rolled his eyes. Erik let out a huff but took a bite. Peter waited as the older mutant slowly chewed. “So? What do you think?”

“It's actually not bad.” Erik sounded surprised as he took another bite. Peter felt a surge of victory as he piled the other three sandwiches onto his plate and took a seat next to Erik.

“Told you.” he smirked. The two of them were silent for a few moments, each enjoying the food and each other's company.

“I think you should tell him.” Erik said suddenly, wiping bread crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Peter's eyebrows knitted together.

“What?”

“Your father. I think you should reach out to him.” Peter almost choked on his sandwich.

“No, I cant do that.” he shook his head. “He has a new life and-”

“And I'm sure he'd want you to be a part of that life.” If only Erik knew.

“Nah, I doubt he'd want a loser son like me.”

Erik let out an exasperated sigh. “Peter, why do you insist on tearing yourself down? Yes, you're a high school dropout but that doesn't mean you're not intelligent. Yes, you lived in your mother's basement but that doesn't mean you're not independent. You are so much more than the labels you've assigned to yourself and any man would be proud to have you as his son.”

Peter's throat tightened and his eyes burned. Would Erik feel that way if he knew the truth? Would he be proud to call Peter his son?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ME: OMG PETER JUST TELL HIM!!   
> Also me: *evil laugh* I will drag this out until the end of time!
> 
> Anywho, I hope everyone is enjoying this so far! Be sure to let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

“You look like shit, Peter.” Jubilee snorted when he hobbled into the den the next morning with bags under his eyes. She, Ororo, Scott and Kurt were playing _Jenga_ on the floor in front of the fireplace while Jean watched from the couch, her nose stuck in a book.

“You always know how to make a guy feel good about himself, Jub.” Peter huffed, flopping onto the couch next to Jean. He jerked his chin towards the game and asked the redhead, “Why aren't you playing?”

“Because she cheats!” Scott pipped up, probably shooting Jean a glare although it was impossible to tell for sure with his glasses.

“I do not cheat! I have never cheated before.” Jean defended, earning scoffs from the group. “You guys are just sore losers.”

“Please, we all saw you stop the tower from falling with you powers.” Ororo said, sticking her tongue out as she slowly pulled a block from the bottom of the tower.

“Sore losers.” Jean sang with a subtle twitch her finger that sent the tower tumbling.

“HEY!” they all called out, shooting accusing glares in Jean's direction. Her eyes widened with innocence as she shrugged.

“What? I didn't do anything.” The group grumbled but went about their business rebuilding the tower. Peter's snicker was cut off by a yawn. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm just tired.” he waved her off. “I couldn't sleep and I ended up talking with Erik all night.”

“Ooh, did you tell him yet?” Jean immediately perked up, leaning closer to him in interest. Peter was taken aback.

“What? What are you talking about? Did I tell him what?” he asked, panicked. Did Jean know?

“That he's your father?” Yep, she knew. Peter lunged towards her forward, pressing a finger to his lips.

“SHHH! Keep your voice down, woman!” he whispered harshly, hoping that the others were too busy with their game to be paying attention to them. Jean looked at him like he was crazy.

“Why? They already know.” she asked. Peter's jaw dropped.

“What? How? Raven and Ororo are the only ones that should know! How do you even know?” Peter's voice rose several octaves. “Did you read my mind? Cause that's a _huge_ invasion of my privacy!”

“You're a very loud thinker, Peter, and this is _all_ you've been thinking about lately.” Jean told him. Okay, he couldn't totally blame her for that. Its not like Jean could really control her powers that well.

“Fair enough.” Peter turned to the others. “How do you guys know?”

“Jean told me.” Scott answered, removing a block.

“And Scott told me.” Jubilee responded.

“And me.” Kurt added.

“Summers, you little blabber mouth.” Peter growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Do you want to tell anyone else while you're at it? Hmm? Maybe the professor or hell, why don't you just go ahead and tell Erik?”

“Don't have a cow, Maximoff.” Scott was probably rolling his eyes. “If you didn't want people to know then you shouldn't have told anyone.”

“I LITERALLY TOLD ONE PERSON!” Peter felt like he was about to bust a blood vessel. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Does anybody else know?”

“No, I think it's just us.” Kurt shrugged.

“Good, lets keep it that way.” Peter huffed as he pushed himself off of the couch. He grabbed his crutches and started to hobble away.

“You need to tell him, Peter.” Jean called out to him. “He needs you just as much as you need him.”

“And you need to stay out of people's heads.” he hollered over his shoulder and left the den. As he roamed the halls, his mind begin to wonder. He stopped suddenly in his tracks when he thought of something terrible. If Jean had heard his thoughts, then the professor might have too. Charles and Erik had a close relationship that Peter didn't really understand and it wouldn't surprise him if the telepath spilled the beans before Peter could. He needed to have a talk with the professor as soon as possible. Without a second thought, Peter made his way to Charles's office, knocking quickly and loudly as soon as he was in front of the wooden doors.

“Come in, Peter.” the posh accent called out from the other side of the door. It didn't really surprise Peter that Charles knew it was him but that didn't mean that it wasn't creepy. Peter slid into the office and saw that the professor was sitting behind his desk, focused intently on some paperwork in his hands. He glanced up at the speedster and smiled, “Take a seat.”

Peter nodded in thanks and hopped to the chair in front of the desk, sat down and laid his crutches across his lap. “Okay, Prof. I, uh, I need to talk you about something. If you've got the time, that is. I don't want to bother you if you're busy. I can come back later, if you want.”

“That's quite alright. My next class doesn't start for another hour.” Charles put the paperwork aside and focused fully on the young man in front of him. The professor's piercing gaze made Peter uneasy. He felt like Charles knew all of his secrets and the scariest part was that he probably did. The older mutant furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Peter, are you alright? You're projecting a lot of anxiety. What's bothering you?”

Jeez, did he really think that loud? He needed to work on that. “Professor, I need to tell something but I need you to promise that you wont tell Erik.”

“Peter, I know.” Charles said simply with an empathetic look in his eyes. Peter froze, wondering if they were talking about the same thing.

“You know? About Erik?”

“I do.” Charles nodded. “You have a tendency to project your thoughts and its rather difficult not to pick up on them.”

“Okay.” Peter let out a sigh of relief and relaxed in the chair. “Are you going to tell Erik?”

“Its not my secret to tell.” Charles shrugged, rolling out from behind his desk to sit closer to the young man. “Are _you_ going to tel him?”

“I don't know, man.” Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He just lost his wife and kid. I don't want him to think I'm trying to replace them.”

“Peter, I don't think he would ever think that.” Charles shook his head.

“I bet you didn't think he'd shoot JFK, try to kill Nixon, and become a horseman of the apocalypse either but look how that turned out.” Peter snapped, regretting it instantly. None of this was Charles's fault. He was just trying to help. “I just want to give him time to grieve and heal. He needs time.”

“Maybe what he needs really needs is a son to help him.” Charles told him, his kind eyes watching him carefully. “What are you really afraid of, Peter?”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and shrugged, “That I'm not gonna be good enough. That I'll disappoint him like I've disappointed everyone else in my life.”

“And who have you disappointed?” Charles leaned back in his wheelchair and folded his hands on his lap.

“My mom. All of my teachers. My little sister.” Peter dropped his gaze as he continued, “Myself.”

“Peter, I don't think you're really afraid that you will disappoint Erik. I think deep down, you're afraid that Erik will disappoint _you_.” Charles sighed. “I don't blame you. Erik has done some awful things. He's made so many mistakes but I truly believe that he is capable of redemption if given the chance.”

“So you think I should give him that chance?” Peter asked, suddenly feeling very pressured. “You think I should tell him.”

“I think you should do what you feel is right.” Charles continued, “But whatever you do, I will respect your decision even if I do not agree with it.”

“Thanks, professor.” Peter gave him a weak smile and rose to his feet.

“You're very welcome.” Charles nodded as Peter walked to the door. “I'm always available if you ever need to talk.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” he replied before stepping out into the hall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been so long. I just started back to school and its been crazy.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter ran/hobbled as fast as he could down the hall, looking frantically over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. The coast was clear for now but it was only a matter of time before his pursuer caught up to him. The walls practically shook as Scott's bellows echoed through the halls. “YOU'RE DEAD, MAXIMOFF! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!”

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Peter repeated, really wishing he hadn't thrown his crutches at Scott downstairs. He could have used them as a weapon. He rounded a corner and collided with a solid mass. A strong grip held onto his arm, keeping him from falling over. For a brief moment, he was certain that Scott had caught him and he wasn't about to go down without a fight. Peter failed about violently, desperately trying to wrench himself free from his captor. He ignored the pain his movements caused in his leg and frantically wailed, “NO! YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE! UNHAND ME, YOU FIEND!”

The grip tightened and held him firmly in place. “Peter, stop it! You're going to hurt yourself!”

Peter froze, recognizing the voice. It wasn't Scott. It was Erik. Letting himself relax, Peter tried his best to give his father an easygoing smile. “Oh hey, Erik. How're you doing?”

“Well, I was doing very well until you nearly knocked me over.” Erik looked irritated but released his grip on Peter's arm. “What were you doing? I thought Hank told you no running until the cast came off.”

“I wasn't technically running. It was more like stumbling really fast.” Peter told him, looking over his shoulder. He could hear the sound of feet running up the stairs down the hall. Scott was going to catch him if he didn't hide. He spotted a window with long curtains just a little further down the hall. “Sorry Erik. I've got to go.”

“Peter, wait-” Erik couldn't help but laugh as Peter hobbled unsteadily to the window and hid behind the curtains. “Peter, what are you doing?”

“Hiding.” Peter whispered through the cloth. Erik rolled his eyes and ripped the curtain back.

“From who?” he asked.

“Scott.”

“What'd you do to him?”

“What makes you think I did anything to him?”

“Well for starters, you're a grown man hiding behind a curtain.” Erik smirked just as Scott came into sight. Peter ducked back behind the curtain with a small squeak before he saw him.

“Hey, metal guy!” Scott pointed to Erik and stormed over, anger rolling off him in waves. There was shaving cream stuck in his hair and eyebrows. It was gathered along the edges of his glasses and smeared all over the top half of his shirt. “Did Maximoff come through here?”

“No, I'm afraid not. May I ask why you're looking for him?” Erik replied innocently. Scott growled as he wiped a blob of shaving cream off of his cheek.

“The little fucker snuck into my room while I was sleeping, put shaving cream in my hand, and made me smack myself in the face!” he bellowed, his fingers curling into fists by his sides. Erik nodded.

“Ah. I see.” he rubbed at his jaw, hiding a small smile behind his hand. “Well, if I see him, I'll let him know you're looking for him.”

“I'm gonna kick his ass.” Scott grumbled as he stormed away.

“You can come out now.” Erik said as soon as he was gone. Slowly and cautiously, Peter poked his head out from behind the curtain, his cheeks red with embarrassment. Erik's arms were crossed tightly across his chest, his lips pursed in disappointment. “Really? Shaving cream? I'm very disappointed in you, Peter.”

Peter deflated under his gaze. He hung his head as he stepped out from behind the curtain. “I'm sorry.”

“Honestly, Peter. _Shaving cream_?” Erik scoffed, his last words rolling off his tongue with distaste. “That's the best you can come up with?”

Peter's head shot up. “What?”

“I would have thought you'd be a bit more creative than that.” Erik smirked. “And to be honest with you, I'm surprised that you were careless enough to get caught.”

A wide smile grew across Peter's face as he relaxed. “If it weren't for this cast, I could get in and out without him knowing.”

“Then you should have enlisted a partner in crime.” Erik laughed. Peter couldn't believe it. He was expecting a lecture but instead he was getting advice on how to become a more efficient prankster. Had he fallen into some kind bizarre alternate universe?

“I did. Kurt was suppose to poof me out but he got spooked when Scott woke up and bailed on me. Little shit left me there.” Peter shrugged. “I should seen it coming though. Kurt is too innocent for my type of delinquency.”

“Try someone with a stronger stomach next time.” Erik shook his head with a small chuckle. Peter's smile grew. “Raven's always been a bit of a trickster. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to assist you in your future shenanigans.”

“Okay, I'll remember that.” the young man grinned mischievously, already imagining the trouble he and Raven would cause. “I'll have to wait a while though. Scott will have his guard up for the next few days.”

“Was there any reason in particular for pranking him today?” Erik asked.

Peter froze before carefully answering, “He told a secret.”

“What secret?”

“If I told you, then it wouldn't be much of a secret.” Peter deflected with a smirk, hoping Erik would get the hint and let it go. The older man held up his hands in surrender and smiled.

“Say no more.” he chuckled. “I'd stay out of sight for the rest of the day if I were you. Scott is out for blood.”

“Good call.” Peter sighed. “I guess I'll be hiding in my room if you need me.”

“No. That will be the first place he'll look for you.” Erik shook his head. Peter threw his arms up and let them fall back to his sides in exasperation.

“Then where should I go?”

“I was headed to the library. You're welcome to join me.” Erik added with a smirk, turning to leave. “I doubt Scott would ever think to look for you there.”

“Hardy har har. Very funny, old man.” Peter rolled his eyes but shuffled after him. Erik shot him a concerned look over his shoulder.

“Where are you're crutches?”

“Huh? Oh, I threw them at Scott downstairs. It distracted him long enough for me to get a head start.” Erik laughed softly at that and stretched out his hand. A few seconds later, Peter's crutches floated up the stairs and down the hall towards them, right into Erik's waiting hands. He passed them over to the young man.

“Thanks.” Peter smiled, tucking the crutches under his armpits.

“You're quite welcome.” Erik smiled softly, clapping Peter on the shoulder. “Follow me. It might be a while before Scott simmers down.”

“Lead the way.” Peter smiled with a wave of his hand. A warmth spread across his chest as he followed Erik. Growing up, he had always dreamt about just spending the day with his dad and now, he was finally living his dream.

 


End file.
